


Insatiable

by stepOnMeZenos



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Ambiguous Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV), Other, ZenoHika Week 2020 (Final Fantasy XIV)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-23
Updated: 2020-08-23
Packaged: 2021-03-06 19:08:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,456
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26063995
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stepOnMeZenos/pseuds/stepOnMeZenos
Summary: Following his short-lived clash with the Warrior of Light in Doma, Zenos finds himself dissatisfied with the luxuries the acting viceroy provides for him in the Doman palace.ZenoHika Week day 1, prompt: Hunger
Relationships: Zenos yae Galvus/Warrior of Light
Comments: 2
Kudos: 31





	Insatiable

**Author's Note:**

> Day 1, six more to go~

The meal Yotsuyu had her cooks prepare for him used only the finest ingredients available, many of them expressly imported for the sake of feeding the high and mighty that yet resided in Doma. They were prepared with all the finesse Doman cooks possessed, of course, resulting in a multi-course meal taking inspiration from both Garlean and Doman cuisine. The flavours that seemed like they should clash had been expertly blended into a greater whole. 

And yet, as Zenos idly picked at it, it did absolutely nothing to quell the hunger that gnawed at him. Oh, perhaps it would nourish him physically—though as with all food, it tasted bland and uninteresting to him—but it wasn't what he wanted. Craved. _Needed._

Memories of his encounter with the so-called champion of Eorzea kept flashing before his inner eye. The moment of weight shifting on his helmet that had stumped him for a brief second before realising what had happened in particular refused to leave his mind. It had been such a boring, uneventful day up until that point. 

He put the chopsticks down on the porcellain holder a little too forcefully. The holder's surface cracked, and one of the chopsticks rolled right off onto the table, staining the cloth covering it. 

“Is-is aught amiss, my lord?“ the attendant Yotsuyu had ordered to serve him stuttered. She had kept to the back, silent aside from a customary greeting and the initial question of what he desired, which he had left unanswered. 

Her voice grated. It jarred him out of his reverie.

“Out,“ he ordered.

“My lord?“

“ _Out_ , I said. Do not make me repeat myself a third time.“ 

With a stifled squeak, the woman rose and rushed over to the paper door, fumbled to open it and fled the room. Pitiful. The Warrior of Light would not have been so quick to grovel and obey. He remembered well the look of utter _hatred_ they had given him when he had cut down the lowlife who had tagged along with them. It had been the kind of glare that promised that a dagger would soon find its way into his throat, or an axe to his head, or a spear to his chest—

—and though he had oft been looked at like that, none had ever come so close to fulfilling that promise as the Warrior of Light. 

It had only been the tip of his crowned helmet. He had not even sustained an injury, only mild, cosmetic damage to his armor. And yet, that was further than anyone else had ever gotten. Amidst the legions of those who had gone up against him and failed miserably, this Warrior of Light shone as the exception. 

He looked down at the near untouched meal, and then shoved it away before rising to his feet. Two meals a day were plenty. He needed no more, and he couldn't bear to sit still and endure the vapid attention of a drone-like servant, least of all today, after having tasted a hint of fulfillment at last. 

There was a door leading outside into the gardens. He'd been advised to stay inside, lest more assassins easily find their way to him, but he could only scoff at the notion. Either they were not worth grinding to dust under his heel and would thus not be a threat, or they were strong, and in that case they could not come soon enough. Regardless, the Warrior of Light was not likely to come seek him out so soon again; not with the injuries they had taken away from their encounter. 

He opened the door and descended the few stairsteps leading outside. The garden itself was dull, of course; trees, rocks, water, bridges and naught of interest. They would have been better off building training halls and weaponries, these Domans. Mayhap then they would have been able to put up a better fight… 

Even so, it beat sitting at the dinner table. 

He followed the path winding back and forth between trees and flowerbeds, though he barely spared any of the spectacle around him a glance. Dull though all the decoration was, this _would_ be an interesting place to stage a hunt in, would it not? The many hiding spots… the opportunity for surprise attacks… 

Without his pesky entourage, the Warrior of Light would almost certainly be able to stage a better ambush. That Auri woman had been beyond pitiful in her attempt to catch him off guard. Left to their own devices, who knew what manner of superior plan they would have hatched? 'Twas a pity that they thought themselves the champion of the weak. What more would they be capable of if not for their being slowed down by those around them…

But even so, this Warrior would not be held back by such things. Zenos had seen it in their eyes. They would simply not _allow_ anyone else to prevent them from hunting down Zenos. Such delightful hatred would not, _could_ not be stopped. 

It was a curious thing, that hatred. For years he had stoked the fires beneath those he ruled over, that one who showed such emotion might emerge to hunt him down, and yet, all of his attempts had failed. Neither Doma nor Ala Mhigo nor any other place on the star he had been to had produced results. This Warrior who hailed from lands Zenos had never even touched had singlehandedly surpassed them all. 

Zenos came to a halt in front of a bland pile of rock interspersed with plants. Why anyone would spend money and effort on constructing this was beyond him, but would it not be interesting to fight on the structure? The treacherous, slippery ground; rocks shifting underfoot; plants tangling around one's limbs… falling would be a death sentence against a competent opponent. 

He had long since made a habit of evaluating his surroundings for potential challenges, but until this day, that habit had lost its luster. What of it if an area offered tricky conditions for a fight? If there was nobody who could take advantage of it against him, it would do naught to entertain him. The passing thoughts had become part of the background noise of life, along with the endless petitioners and dignitaries and angry transmissions from his father. 

Now—oh, now it felt different. He could picture the dance he would have here with the Warrior of Light so vividly. Strikes shattering the very rocks as they circled each other, each step carefully calculated so as to not slip. Mayhap it would rain, making it even trickier not to lose one's footing. And before long, their blood would splatter across the rocks, only adding to the effect… and finally making this structure something worth looking at. 

If only the Warrior of Light was ready for it already.

The thought was as a cold bucket of water upended over his head. 

Certainly, they had come closer than anyone else to being worthy, but _they weren't yet._ His reveries would stay just that for far longer than he wanted to tolerate. Patience had never been his strong suit in the rare times he had genuinely wished for something. And now he had to _wait_. There was nothing he could do to speed up the process. The seed of hatred had been sown in the prey's soul, and no amount of wishing otherwise would make it germinate any faster. 

'Frustrating' wasn't enough to describe the experience. 

He eyed the stone structure again. No blood would grace it today. Nobody would dance upon it. What was it even there for? Stupid, pointless waste of space.

On a whim, he drew his sword and slashed. The aether he drew from his body at great risk to himself surged as a sickle of pure energy dug into the stone, cleaving a huge gash into the structure near the bottom. It was enough to destabilise the entire pile. Rocks clattered down towards the ground, crushing delicate flowers beneath their weight. Before long, rocks piled up on the path, blocking the way forward. 

Was it an improvement? No. He had simply transferred rocks from one place to another. They had served no purpose before, and they served none now. 

But if this garden was not going to be the staging ground for his hunt, then he would ensure it could not be used for aught else, either. 

Sword in hand, he went to work. Slashing at trees, bridges and flowers was so poor a substitute that it could hardly be called such, but it would have to do.

Until such a time as the Warrior of Light was ready to dance, sating the hunger they had awakened within him.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments appreciated.


End file.
